


Find Your Own

by ParadoxR



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Fluff, In Character, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:12:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2105847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParadoxR/pseuds/ParadoxR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isn't it nice when people fight over something you have?</p><p>IC fluff; parsed-wordish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find Your Own

**Author's Note:**

  * For [normaltrouble](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=normaltrouble).



> We're probably somewhere between "Hathor" and "Message in a Bottle", depending on whether you want SG-10 to be in training or actively on rotation. No spoilers.

“No.” _‘Recommend adding crawl space training to basic orientation—’_

“Wh? But, Sir—”

“No.” _‘and reviewing non-lethal hazard protocols at next—’_

“Colonel, Sir, I haven’t even said anything yet.”

Jack glances up from his Froot Loops. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

This is, of course, a lie. Jack gestures the younger man forward with his spoon anyway. It sends flecks of milk into the mid-afternoon air of the crowded commissary. Which is, unsurprisingly, exactly like the air always is in the commissary. _‘need risk assessment from Carter on rolling out the neutralization …thing in light of ‘497 Charlie Foxtrot.’_ Ok, he probably can’t put that one in a memo quite that way.

“I was just wondering if—”

“No.” _Review budget priority talking paper before flight to DC. Bug Carter about big words. Also the actually important stuff._

“Sir—”

 _Argh._ Well, this train of thought’s officially going too slow to be useful.

Jack changes tactics. “Major, how many SG teams are there?” He doesn’t bother to meet the man’s eyes. _Oh yeah, Froot Loops. Sweet._ Jack’s tongue pokes out in concentration as he surgically divides the delicious sugar rings into color-coordinated islands. _Hey, get back here!_ The reflection of his newest SG-team CO squirms in Jack’s spoon as the full-bird colonel hunts a stray blue circle through the milky deep.

“Ten now, Sir.” The tall Airman answers evenly. He manages not to fidget with the beret under his arm.

 

Jack ultimately gives up the hunt.

“ _You_ , Major,” the colonel looks up to gesture broadly, “are the _ninth_ SG team leader to interrupt my lunch.” More flecks of milk fly as Jack punctuates his point. _Way to be late in your first week, Airman._

The major nods. There’s a speck of milk on his nose.

Jack focuses on the speck as he repeats himself. Again. “The answer.” Dramatic pause. “Is ‘No’.”

 

That earns Jack a beat of silence. Must’ve been from the dramatic pause. _Now, about talking to Carter._

“Sir, if I may ask, what’d you tell the tenth?”

 _Well, that was nice while it lasted._ “Oh, for him I said yes.” The colonel offers brightly.

“Why, Sir?”

“Because he’s _me_ , Major.” _We got a winner here, don’t we?_

It’s been a while since Jack’s made a veteran combat rescue officer stammer.

“Oh. Right, Sir. Sorry. But perhaps just for one day…”

_You have got to be kidding me._

“Oh, come on, Jack, give the kid a break. He’s new. He needs it!” Lou finally gets up from his own table to smack his former team lead on the back. It makes Jack’s tray bump. This causes the Froot Loop islands go Pangea on him. Lou’s gonna pay for that.

On the bright side, he’s got the blue one back.

“Yeah, you guys’ve had a slow rotation anyway.”

Jack levels a look at the CO of SG-5. “ _Slow_ , Benny?”

The lieutenant colonel-select nods around Jack’s toast. _I was gonna eat that. ‘Neutralization agent vis-à-vis ‘497…’_

“Yeah, I mean you’ve only saved, what, three worlds this month? And only one of them was Earth.” Lou bites into Jack’s apple pointedly. Jack wasn’t going to eat that anyway.

“One of ‘em was a moon!” SG-7 hasn’t left either, apparently.

“Right. Moons don’t count.”

“Moons don’t _count_ , Kevin?” Jack echoes back at the CO of SG-8.

“Hey, don’t look at me, I don’t make the rules.”

“Come on, Jack. A week?”

“A _week_?” _Seriously, Benny?_

“A day? You could have Wilcox.”

Jack wisely grabs his other slice of toast before someone else does. Maybe that’s why they’re all still hanging around, because they have to know “I don’t want Wilcox, Jesse.”

“How about for Chau?”

“No, thank you.”

“Vivek?”

Jack takes a very large bite of his toast. He’d gotten the slice with jelly on it.

“Lafratta?”

“That’s _you_ , Jim.”

The captain blushes slightly. “Yeah, well. Makes more sense anyway.”

 _No, it doesn’t, thank you._ Jack finishes his toast in another bite. “Find your own.”

“Find our own? Jeez, Jack, come on. I’ve been looking _everywhere_. How did you even manage it?”

Jack smirks around his last gulp of Froot Loops and raps the CO of SG-9 on the back. It’s nice to have the guys all in town. “You’re doing it backwards, Rob.” So that he can say that. Now, if you’ll excuse him, he has actual work to do. Jack walks the dog on his yo-yo out of the commissary as he mentally drafts _another_ performance report.

“Jack!”

Jack briefly considers the look on Hammond’s face for the memo ‘Colonel O’Neill’s Yo-Yo Goes Rogue and Ties up Major Norweg’. It’s a pretty good face. “ _Yes,_ Benny?”

“Does she have a sister?”

Jack turns pointedly.

“Or a, or a brother. I just, you know.” The science team CO gestures meaningfully at his head. Or rather, meaningfully at not other places.

Jack thinks he manages a pretty contemplative nod. “Her dad sounds pretty good.”

The major perks up for the first time since he finished Jack’s toast. “Yeah?”

“He’s a two-star.”

“Right. Finding my own.”

That might be a record for how wide their eyes've gotten.


End file.
